


Blue

by DarkStarlet



Series: Windows to the Soul [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alive Hale Family/Pack, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Argents are supposed to be like hired police, Full Shift Werewolves, Kate still attempted the Fire, Kidnapping, M/M, No actual rape just the threats, Prequel, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Warning: Kate Argent, stiles is 16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 02:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14275410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkStarlet/pseuds/DarkStarlet
Summary: 'The sense of being watched wakes Stiles hurriedly, and he bolts upright in time to see three men towering over him, only for it all to crash into darkness again as one smacks the butt of his gun into his temple.'





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mentions of rape/non-con and there's some physical violence too, but nothing too graphic. 
> 
> Check the tags for anything else.
> 
> May still be some spelling/grammar errors as this is not beta'd. Please let me know if you spot anything I haven't and I'll sort it.

The black SUV pulled up to a small wooden cabin in the woods. All the lights were out, but this didn’t bother the three men who clambered out, guns holstered at their waists. As the driver headed over to unlock the door and check things hadn’t been disturbed, the other two headed round to the trunk.  
Reaching in they dragged out a slim teenage boy, dressed in red and black checked sleep pants and a Batman tee. His hands and feet are bound, mouth wrapped painfully tight in duct tape, and his eyes roll slowly in his barely conscious state.  
Hands under his arms, they drag him through the leaves and dirt into the cabin, down some stairs and into the tiny basement store room.  
They dump him on the ratty camping bed, nothing but a bucket and a few bottles of water in the room, cut away the rope at his ankles and rip the tape off. The boy wakes more at the pain, and groans softly. The metal door slams into place and the bolt slides home, trapping him inside.

 

***

Dawn approaches. Stiles can only tell because the light coming through the gap that might once have been a window is a bit lighter. Now that he’s got the feeling back in his legs, he’s wandered around the small room to try and figure out if there’s anything he can use to escape in here.  
Nope. Nothing.  
Shit.  
Luckily his hands are tied in front of him so he can pee in the bucket, which he then moves silently to the other side of the room as far from the camp bed as possible.  
He then stands and tries to look out the gap of the window.  
It’s slim and rectangular, must have had glass in it once upon a time, but all traces of it have vanished now. The frame is wooden though, and old, so maybe, if he could find something, he might be able to pry enough of it away that he could squeeze out. At the moment though, it is so not happening.  
He thinks back to last night as he looks down at his clothes.

 

***

“Scott! Seriously, she likes you, I promise. There is no way she is getting second thoughts about your floppy-haired, socially awkward, virgin wolf butt.”

“Stiles! You’re not helping! I’m being serious about this. Her parents are hunters remember? If I screw this up I’m… puppy chow!”

“Scotty, Allison’s parents are not going to kill you. You know they only go after feral and criminalised weres. You haven’t committed any crimes, and the only insanity right now, is me driving to Eichen to get away from this conversation.”

Stiles hung up on his best friend and tossed his phone onto the desk. He sighed, leaning back into his chair, hands running through his hair and down his face. Since getting bitten by a feral werewolf last year Scott has been a bit of a nightmare. Not that Stiles begrudges him that, getting turned against your will by an insane wolf that wants to burn down the town and feast on the corpses of those left behind would make anyone freak out a little.  
Since then however, every little thing makes Scott go running to Stiles for help. EVERY little thing. The ‘just-turned-into-a-werewolf’ thing was fine, but relationship advice?! Stiles was very much an untouched in every way virgin, with absolutely no real advice to offer. Internet searches about what makes a good first date only gets you so far.  
Whenever Stiles complained about Scott to his dad the man just laughed. Tonight was no different.

“What’s the matter son? Scott still panicked about his date with Allison?”

“I don’t think panicked is the best way to describe it dad. Defcon 5 just about covers it…”

They converse a little longer about trivial things before his dad heads out to work.

“Listen Stiles, with the Argent-Hale case coming to a head this month, there have been a few… unsavoury types in town. There’ve been threats made to the department and I don’t want you getting involved. As the sheriff I’m more of a target, so please, no more wandering around at night until this is over. The last thing I need to happen is for you to get caught in the crossfire. I want you to stay home and keep the doors locked, okay?”

“Alright, i’ll be good and not leave the house. You don’t need anymore stress and I get that, I can be kinda a handful sometimes.”

“No son, these people are dangerous. I just don’t want anything to happen to you. Finish your homework and go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that he’s off and Stiles locks all the doors and windows like he’s been told, then heads up to his room to continue the Chemistry homework Scott had interrupted with his call. It takes maybe another half hour before Stiles decides to call it quits and he cracks his window open an inch whilst he watches a film on his laptop.  
Avengers over, he sets his alarm for the morning, clambers into bed and tries to get to sleep. It’s a long time coming, and cutting it close to midnight by the time he starts to drift off properly.  
The sense of being watched wakes Stiles hurriedly, and he bolts upright in time to see three men towering over him, only for it all to crash into darkness again as one smacks the butt of his gun into his temple.

 

***

Later that morning, when the Sheriff returns home, he’s horrified to discover the front door smashed in, and chaos leading up to his son’s room.  
There’s a small splatter of blood on the pillow, and an envelope with his name on it.

‘Destroy the Argent-Hale evidence. You have three days until we dump his ruined body in the woods.’

 

***

Stiles sits on the bed deep in thought for most of the day. He occasionally hears movement from above, or low male voices and knows he’s still quite trapped. He can make out a few words here and there, particularly when an argument of some kind starts and figures that these men must be the ones his dad warned him about.  
The Argent-Hale case is well known in Beacon Hills. It’s been ongoing for a few years now. The main suspect, Kate Argent, drugged and tortured one of the Hale kids, and then she tried to kill the entire family by locking them in their house with mountain ash, and setting fire to the place. Somehow the kid got free and the police turned up in time to save the family, though there were some serious injuries and one family member only just woke up from a coma due to the severity of the burns.  
Argent wanted them dead simply because she believed that all werewolves should be culled, not just the criminal ones. She didn’t even care that there were humans and children inside. Apparently just associating with wolves in a friendly manner was enough to get your name on her hit-list.  
This wasn’t even the first time she’d done it either, which is why it was taking so long.

The list of dead was shockingly high.

The scrape and clang of the bolt on the door made Stiles flinch out of his thoughts, and he pulled his knees up to his chest to make himself look smaller and less of a threat. One man entered with a camera and a tripod, setting them up quickly, aimed at Stiles, before the other two entered. Their faces were covered so Stiles couldn’t tell what they looked like, but he figured that was more for the camera’s sake than his own.  
A sheet of paper was pushed into his hands and he was manhandled into position to face the camera.

“You will read this. If you don’t, you will be beaten. If you still refuse to comply, I will rape you and send this to your father. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He looked down at the sheet and then at the camera, glancing up at his captors for a moment. They really meant business, and he was fucking terrified. The red light came on.

“My name is Stiles Stilinski. I am currently safe and unharmed though I will not remain so if the deadline is missed. You know what you need to do to save me. This video is proof that I am alive. It will be the only evidence you receive from them. Once you have taken care of your task, you will call the number that has been provided with this video. Failure to complete your task means they will… they will violate me in every possible way.” Stiles voice cracks a little and tears well up in his eyes. “It will be filmed and sent to you. After which they will put my body where it can never be found. Or perhaps, if they like me enough, they will keep me alive and take me with them to entertain them for a couple of years.” The tears roll freely down his face now, and he must take a little too long to continue speaking as he gathers his breath because the man who had spoken before suddenly punches him straight in the face. 

Stiles cries out as his head is knocked to the side, the force of it sending him off the bed and to the floor. The flash of pain radiates not just through his jaw, but his whole head and his vision swims. He is yanked back up onto the bed by his hair, and the paper shoved back into his hands.

“Y-you… You now have t-two days until the d-deadline. The f-faster you are the less bored th-they’ll be, a-and the less likely they are t-to start playing with me before the deadline.”

The red light clicks off and the men troop out with the camera and paper, leaving Stiles to curl up on the bed, cradling his face and sobbing into his arms.

 

***

As night falls, Stiles hears the engine of a car as it leaves the cabin, and then footsteps coming down to his prison. The door swings open and one of the men is standing there, his face no longer hidden. He appears to be in his late forties with greying hair pulled back in a short pony-tail, a serious five-o’clock shadow, and a long scar running over the line of his jaw. He’s quite obviously well built, muscles emphasised by the tight back shirt he’s wearing. He carries a tray of food and a large ice pack.  
As he approaches, Stiles scuttles back into the corner, breath coming in quick pants as he tries not to panic.

“Shh, I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve brought you some dinner and ice for your face. I know you don’t trust me, we’ve given you no reason to, but as long as your father does as he’s told and you don’t fight back, nothing will happen to you.”

He pulls out a knife and Stiles just about has a heart attack as it comes towards him, and then stares in shock as all his captor does is free his wrists from their binds. The man pats his thigh, the fingers slipping dangerously close to his crotch, before he backs off with a soft smile and a twisted gleam in his eyes.

“I’ll leave you to eat. The others have gone to deliver the video to your dad. If things go well, this time tomorrow you’ll be back at home with nothing to worry about.”

Before Stiles can ask why the man is being so nice to him when earlier, it was most certainly him who threatened to rape him and punched him in the face, he’s gone, the bolt sliding into place behind him.

 

***

The tray is one of those old, all-in-one things made of metal with dents pressed in to put food. There’s only two spaces of the four with anything in them though, what looks like chicken and rice in white sauce, and… after a quick sniff, applesauce. The cutlery he’s been given is the flimsy plastic kind, but Stiles does get ideas about the tray. For now though, he’s hungry and in pain, so he presses the ice to his face and digs into the chicken.  
The car returns as he’s eating and he pauses to listen.  
The returning men are laughing and he can hear the rustle of plastic and the clink of glass. They must have bought some drinks, beer perhaps.  
After a couple of hours where a radio blares music and the men seem to get drunker and drunker, they finally go quiet. They’ve left the radio on though, so Stiles puts his plan into action.  
Carefully as he can, Stiles moves the bed under the old slit window and grabs the tray, he bit by bit starts to pry the old rotting wood from the frame, keeping an ear out in case he’s been heard. As he works, movement from outside catches his eye and he looks up to see a pair of vividly glowing blue eyes staring right at him from the treeline. 

“Hello?” Stiles whispers. “I’ve been kidnapped by the men here and I’m trying to get out. My dad’s the sheriff of Beacon Hills, can you tell him where I am?” 

Instead of turning around and hurrying towards town like Stiles was hoping, the black wolf approaches the house.

“No, go back! They’re working for the Argents, they’ll kill you if they get the chance.”

The wolf pauses, and Stiles can almost feel the rumble of the growl that comes in his chest. Yet the wolf keeps coming. 

Within moments the wolf with blue eyes is right up to the window, and it snuffles Stiles outstretched hand. A grunt from upstairs has them both freezing and glancing upwards, but when the wolf relaxes, Stiles picks up the tray and continues to pick at the wood. The wolf seems to want to help, and starts to gnaw at the bottom of the frame from the outside.  
A sickening crack sounds as the added werewolf strength rips the whole frame away from the window.  
Upstairs there’s a thud and a shout and Stiles is pulling himself up and wriggling to try and get through the window. His head and shoulders get through just fine, but his hips wedge for ten horrifying seconds. The sound of steps on the stairs has him clawing at the ground outside as he tries to free himself, and the wolf grabs his shirt in its jaws to pull him out.  
Just as the bolt of the door is thrown back, his hips are free and he pulls his legs through. Fingers scrape his bare ankles and then he’s up and running, the wolf just ahead, leading him into the dark trees. Gunfire sounds and Stiles ducks, then weaves through the trees, glowing blue eyes looking back to guide him into the night. 

 

***

 

Morning comes as Stiles and the wolf reach a rickety fence, and where the wolf leaps gracefully over the struts, Stiles falls and lands hard on his side.  
A woman’s voice calls from inside the house whose garden he’s just invaded, a sharp bark from the wolf alerts him to the massive black beast that’s standing over him. 

“Derek? What’s going on? Whose’s that-“ The woman pulls up short at the bottom of the steps leading down from the porch. She takes one look at Stiles and starts running over, pulling a phone from her pocket as she does so.

As she dials she checks Stiles over and her hand lingers on the massive bruise adorning one side of his face. Derek, the wolf, hovers near his shoulders and whines quietly when he lets out a small hiss of pain.

“Sheriff? It’s Talia. Derek found him, he’s safe John, your boy’s safe.”

“Dad?” Stiles is surprised by how small and weak his voice sounds, and even more that when Alpha Hale hands him the phone his hands are shaking so bad that he nearly drops it.

“Dad?”

“Stiles! Are you alright? Did they hurt you? I saw the video son, did they do anything else? Please tell me you’re okay?!”

“I’m okay dad, I’m fine. I just… I wanna go home.” Stiles finds himself crying again as Talia scoops him up in her arms and carries him into the house.

Things are a bit of a whirlwind after that, with Derek vanishing into the woods with a large group of officers to lead them to the cabin, and the paramedics bundling him into the back of an ambulance, his dad riding with him, never letting go of his hand the whole time.

 

***

 

It’s nearly a week before his dad will leave him alone for any length of time. One of his kidnappers managed to get away, and after looking at the pair in the interrogation room, neither were the one who’d hit him. Stiles gets barely any sleep, and not just because of nightmares either. The press are outside their house and the station, where ever he goes really, and its driving him insane.  
After the sixth night in a row being awoken by screams, John knows he needs to get back to work and hunt down the bastard who hurt his boy, its the only way Stiles will finally feel safe. He couldn’t find him one morning and nearly went out of his mind with worry before realising the bathroom door was locked and his son was hiding in the bathtub with his baseball bat. 

The house doesn’t feel safe anymore.

 

***

 

When Talia invites them both over for dinner, John eagerly takes her up on the offer but has to almost force Stiles to leave the house. He takes his bat with him.  
When they arrive it’s to pleasant family chaos, children, both human and wolf playing in the yard, Peter, scars still covering his body in a chair on the porch with a large tomb from his extensive library, and Talia trying in vain to get her daughters to help set the table. Other members of the pack mill around, talking and laughing with each other.  
When Stiles gets out of the car, no one stares at him as he clutches the bat close to his chest, eyes frantically darting about. His dad gently leads him inside where Talia Hale greets them warmly and shows them into the living room. Once dinner is ready, Stiles eats mechanically, head down yet every sense on high alert, flinching at every sound and sudden movement. No one comments on it.  
After dinner, Stiles heads to the bathroom, but runs into someone on his way back. Arms steady him but a scream starts to try and work its way out, he struggles and attempts to swing the bat. A strong hand tilts his head up and green eyes flash blue.  
Almost instantly, Stiles relaxes, the breath of the would-be scream coming out as a soft “Oh, it’s you.” instead.  
When it comes time to leave, John finds his son asleep on the couch, curled up in the lap of Derek Hale.

The bat lay forgotten under the coffee table.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 - Red - Complete
> 
> Part 3 - Gold - Complete


End file.
